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Irfan Ajvazi

Ravensburg, Germany

My work is rooted in a deep appreciation for light, atmosphere, and the poetry of everyday spaces. Inspired by the urban landscape, interiors, and highways, I seek to capture moments that might otherwise be overlooked—transforming the ordinary into something luminous and evocative. Drawing from influences like Richard Diebenkorn, Wayne Thiebaud, Fairfield Porter, and Alex Katz, I explore the balance between representation and abstraction, using color and composition to create depth and mood. Giorgio Morandi and Edward Hopper have also shaped my approach, teaching me the power of simplification and stillness in painting. My brushstrokes are deliberate yet fluid, reflecting both technical discipline and a love for the physicality of paint itself.

Born in 2001 in Pristina, Kosovo, Irfan Ajvazi is an artist, curator and designer based in Weingarten. A graduate of the Great Learning Academy’s graphic‑design program, he ran a successful online gallery for three years. A figurative painter, he crafts tender scenes that expose the subtle nuances of life, conjuring realms filled with unspoken narratives, intimate moments and romantic gestures.

Artist Interview



Q: Can you describe the moment you realised art was more than just a hobby - when it became something you felt deeply called to pursue?


A: It wasn’t a single lightning-bolt moment, but more like a quiet, persistent pull. I remember one late night, sketching after a rough day, when I looked at the mess of charcoal on my hands and realized I felt more myself than I had in weeks. It hit me then—not only was art my escape, it was the one space where I felt fully present. That’s when I knew it was more than a pastime; it was something I needed to pursue with my whole being.





Q: In the early days of your journey, was there a challenge, whether technical or emotional, that almost made you stop creating? How did you overcome it?


A: Absolutely. In the beginning, I struggled with crippling self-doubt. I’d scroll through social media and feel like everyone else had already figured it out—perfect technique, cohesive style, glowing opportunities. There was one point I didn’t pick up a brush for three months. What brought me back was a friend who reminded me that my voice mattered, even if it wasn’t polished yet. I started creating again, just for me, no pressure. That shift—making for joy, not approval—saved me.





Q: Tell us about your go-to studio rituals or favourite tools that ground you each day. How did they become essential to your process?


A: My day doesn’t begin until I’ve brewed a strong cup of coffee and lit a stick of sandalwood incense. There’s something about scent that immediately calms my nerves and tells my brain, okay, it’s time to make. I also keep a beat-up sketchbook close—not for masterpieces, just ideas, gestures, messes. Over time, these little rituals became anchors, helping me ease into flow and trust the process, even on the hard days.





Q: How do you define ‘success’ as an artist, and has that definition changed since you first began pursuing your craft?


A: When I started, I thought success was gallery shows, big followings, maybe even financial independence. But now, success feels quieter and more personal: showing up consistently, making work that feels honest, connecting with even one person through what I create. Of course, milestones still matter, but they don’t define me the way they once did. Fulfillment comes more from within than from applause.





Q: What’s one piece of advice you’d give someone just discovering their passion for art - something you wish you’d heard when you first started?


A: Make bad art. Seriously. Take the pressure off from the start. Not everything has to be shareable or profound. Give yourself permission to play, to fail, to explore. The truth is, growth lives in the mess. I wish someone had told me earlier that the work doesn’t have to be good to be worth it.




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